


Light

by BearWritesThings (Halaani)



Category: Destiny (Video Game), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Based on Grimoire Card Legend: The Black Garden, Gen, Monster Truck the Ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halaani/pseuds/BearWritesThings
Summary: I walked beneath the blossoms. The light came from ahead and the shadows of the flowers were words. They said things but I will not write them here.


  At the end of the path grew a flower in the shape of a Ghost. I reached out to pluck it and it cut me with a thorn. I bled and the blood was Light.


  The Ghost said to me: You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill. You do not belong here. This is a place of life.


  The Traveler is life, I said. You are a creature of Darkness. You seek to deceive me.


  But I looked behind me, down the long slope where the blossoms tumbled in the warm wind and the great trees wept sap like blood or wine, and I felt doubt.

On a return visit to The Black Garden, Jeremy finds the dead Ghost of a Guardian with a message that shakes him to his core.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I’ve written in a while, but I’m glad to be back at it. Been playing a lot of Destiny lately and recently watched the game theory about this, so I did this.

_You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead._

Jeremy sighed in agitation, kicking his legs listlessly over the edge of the Tower. Behind him, his Ghost whirred unhappily in response to his despondency, and Jeremy unclenched his fist to hold out his hand, his Ghost settling on his gloved palm. He shouldn’t have gone back. He should have listened to Geoff, and stopped his patrol well away from the entrance to the Garden. But he’d felt such a pull and like an idiot he’d walked up to the gate and been pulled in. It was exactly as he remembered from the mission all those months ago, silent and misty but seemingly so full of life. 

Down the hall from where he’d come in, a glint of silver had caught his eye and his Ghost had given a little chirp of distress when they both recognized the dead Ghost. That hadn’t been there last time they’d come through, which meant some poor Guardian had come after them, and met an end that not even their Ghost could bring them back from. Carefully Jeremy had picked up the Ghost shell and lifted it so his Ghost could scan it. He’d done this before, reviving a dead Ghost. Usually his own would scan it and pulse a little bit of Light into it, giving it just enough of a boost to dematerialize and return to the Traveler. But this time the Ghost seemed to dissolve in his hand, leaving behind only a pile of metal shards and a single chip. His own Ghost had been unnerved and had come to float near his shoulder as Jeremy grasped the chip and let the shards flutter away in the wind. He’d held up the chip and his Ghost had scanned it obediently and soon enough, a voice Jeremy was unfamiliar with filled the air.

_“I am Pujari. These are the visions I have had of the Black Garden...”_

He shouldn’t have believed it. The Guardian, Pujari, might have very well gone mad in the Black Garden, begun rambling since he was so cut off from the Traveler, from Light, but the end of the other Guardian’s transmission had sucker punched Jeremy in the gut. _“When my Ghost raised me from the sea there was a thorn-cut in my left hand and it has not healed since._

Instantly, his free hand shot down to his leg, where lie a line of fifteen stitches on his calf. They’d been there since his Ghost had first revived him almost a year ago, and had yet to disappear. Jeremy secretly thought they never would and that had struck him more than anything. He’d been surly and uncooperative since, taking patrols alone instead of with the rest of his usual fireteam, and sleep came in short, rare bursts while his appetite fled him completely. The others had been worried, but Jeremy had rebuffed their concern with angry answers and by stomping off, his doubts curling in his mind so much like the creeping Darkness he was used to fighting. But, there was no relief from this darkness and he could not fight back.

“May I join you?” His Ghost fluttered up from his hand and Jeremy tracked his flight, coming face to face with the Speaker. Surprise settled in him but he nodded.

“Sure. It’s as much your tower as mine.” He scooted over a little to give the other some space and cast a long glance at him from the corner of his eye. The Speaker wasn’t a stranger amongst the Guardians, he was known to walk amongst them and counsel them and attended most meals in the cafeteria with them, but other than that he hardly ever left his sanctuary in Tower North, near the Traveler. The sun was creeping further beneath the sky, and Jeremy watched as his Ghost danced gaily through the air over their heads, chirping a little tune.

“Your Ghost is most amusing, Guardian.” Jeremy almost bristled, used to coming to the defense of his Ghost for his oddities, but stopped when all he could sense was fondness in the other’s voice.

“Yea. Monster Truck doesn’t talk unless he absolutely has to, but he lets you know how he’s feeling pretty easily anyway. Usually just throws anything I need to know up on my HUD unless he needs my attention immediately.” Monster Truck swooped low, ruffling Jeremy’s blue hair before returning to his dance and the Speaker’s warm chuckle filled the air.

“Monster Truck? As good a name as any I’ve heard, Guardian, and he seems to like it.” They sat in companionable silence for a time, watching Monster Truck’s happy bouncing. Jeremy still rubbed at his calf through his armor and The Speaker caught the motion.

“Something bothering you, Guardian?” His voice was quiet, measured, and Jeremy drew in a shaky breath, cursing himself for still being so transparent. Could he tell the Speaker what he’d heard, about how he’d felt that pull into the Black Garden and that he’d followed it? Could he tell the man, who spoke for and to their last protector, that his faith was so soundly shaken by the ramblings on one probably-mad Guardian that he no longer slept or ate well and that, more than once, fleeting thoughts of leaving the Tower to post up somewhere alone had crossed his mind?

“You see, though I am often near the Traveler and every Guardian knows this, I’m apparently not as bad at hiding as I’d thought. Just yesterday, a fireteam gathered near my balcony and were discussing a friend of theirs who was acting odd.” Jeremy bit his lip and turned away slightly and Monster Truck fluttered into view, chirping quietly as he bobbed there. “I think they meant to meet in secret and I would have left if I could, but I was quite trapped upon my balcony. They said that this Guardian would not eat, he could not sleep and their concern had been rather rudely turned aside. They were worried that a patrol would become disastrous for the Guardian, as he had begun to take patrols alone and refused to be accompanied by others, no matter how they asked him.”

Jeremy let his head lean forward on the rail and Monster Truck came to rest near his shoulder, whirring in his best effort to offer his Guardian comfort. The Speaker didn’t press, letting Jeremy gather his thoughts, and finally Jeremy turned towards him completely. “The Ghost said to me: You are a dead thing made by a dead power in the shape of the dead. All you will ever do is kill. You do not belong here. This is a place of life.” His voice shook, and Jeremy felt shame as burning tears gathered in his eyes, all of his exhaustion and fear and doubt catching up with him as he finally confided in someone else.

He couldn’t see the Speaker’s face, but he got the impression that the man was shocked, before he settled into something like curiosity and surprise. “I see. Sometimes, a crisis of faith can be more terrible than anything else, when it feels like it shakes the very foundation upon which you stand. Tell me, Guardian, where did you hear such things?” Jeremy almost wanted to lash out at the man, for boiling down the last few weeks of torment to something as simple as a “crisis of faith” but found he felt inexplicably drained and instead he settled for reaching into one of the compartments under his titan mark and pulled the chip out. He held it up and Monster Trucked beeped unhappily at him but scanned it anyway and began to play it. 

They sat together in the dying light of the sun as lights began to flicker on around them, listening as Pujari told his story. Jeremy let his head rest on the railing while the Speaker watched the stars intently. When the transmission was done, Monster Truck came back to comfort Jeremy and the Speaker sighed. 

“That poor Guardian. In the end, he felt that he was alone, cut off from everything, and in the end, because the Light could not reach him, even his Ghost could not help him. I can feel it, the very frayed ends of their bond through this chip.” Jeremy gave a soft gasp at the thought of losing his bond with Monster Truck, of not having the Ghost beside him, with him, night and day. 

“Where did you find this, Guardian?”

“In the Black Garden.” He confessed quietly. While it wasn’t forbidden to go the Black Garden, Guardians tended to stay far away from it, in case Vex began to come back online.

“The Black Garden you say? Whatever were you doing there?” There was no accusation in the Speaker’s voice, merely intense curiosity. 

“I-” he cut himself off here, biting his lip. Did he confess the strange attraction to the portal, how he had walked towards it with no fear or trepidation alone as he had experienced before when he’d gone through with an entire fireteam? He was already so far, having confessed his doubts to the Speaker, and he was tired, so tired. “I was patrolling Mars and I felt this...tug. I was confused, but it felt right to follow it, so I did. I knew what it was, but something in me told me to go through the portal and I did. The dead Ghost, Pujari’s Ghost, was lying in some grass a few hallways down. It wasn’t there before Speaker. Pujari went in after we did. Or Pujari was there while we were, and we didn’t see him, didn’t help him.”

The Speaker’s hand landed on his shoulder, gently stalling him before he could spiral into full on panic. “Peace, Jeremy.” He startled at the ethereal man’s use of his actual name instead of his title and turned towards him again. “Even if you had found him, he would be beyond even the help of the Traveler himself. He had already begun to unravel at the edges, and he would never be able to re-bond to his Ghost and his connection to the Light was gone as well. We can only hope that he died as peacefully as possible and that, though their bond was broken, his Ghost was there for him in the end.” 

Jeremy nodded unhappily and was started as the Speaker rose to his feet, holding a hand out to the sitting Titan. “Come with me. I have something I’d like to try and show you. I think you may find comfort in it, if nothing else.” Jeremy grasped the other’s hand and scrabbled to his feet, falling into step with the other man. He led him from where he’d been sitting in the hangars where he’d been sitting through the Plaza to Tower North. 

The Speaker nodded and greeted various Guardians as they walked by, but Jeremy kept himself small. He knew he was easily recognizable thanks to his bright blue hair and his matching armor, and the rumor mill would surely begin to turn since he’d been seen in the presence of the Speaker after his odd behavior but right now he couldn’t be bothered with it. The Speaker’s gait was slow, measured, and Jeremy knew it was in deference to his own shuffling walk and eventually they arrived out of the tunnel onto the open flat of Tower North. The Traveler loomed large and immovable in the near distance and Jeremy sucked in a breath. Even after seeing it countless times, The Traveler still took his breath away. Monster Truck chirped and beeped his happiness at being so close to the source of Light, and took off towards it. Jeremy followed the Speaker onto the platform set aside for him, then to the door on the right side. He paused, briefly. Guardians were actually forbidden from this door, but the Speaker merely waved for him to follow with a countenance of fond amusement and Jeremy tottered after him.

There were a set of stairs that lead up about, if Jeremy had to guess, fifty feet and then they went through another door onto a large balcony. “As you know, I speak for the Traveler. And I speak to him. The Traveler does not speak to me in words. No, he is silent in that regard. Instead I see images. What has been and what can be, but not will be, for not even The Traveler can tell what the future holds for sure.” The Speaker gazed at the Traveler before turning again to Jeremy, holding out his hands. “Sometimes, The Traveler speaks to me in none of these ways. Sometimes he reaches out with pure Light, and it reminds me why we fight, why I must remain here and pass on what information I can get to you Guardians.”

Jeremy came forward and allowed his fingers to twine with the other man’s at his urging. “I want you to close your eyes, and focus on nothing. Simply open yourself up and know that here, with The Traveler and with Monster Truck and with all of the Guardians, that you are safe.” Jeremy did as he was bade, letting the silken voice wash over him and he closed his eyes.

For a time all Jeremy could really focus on was the sound of the Tower around them, of the breathing of the Speaker beside him. Soon, though, everything seemed to slip away and Jeremy felt as if he was floating in his own body. He thought that he should be alarmed, but instead warmth effused him and his attention was drawn by a ribbon of light which inched towards him, as if wary of his presence. Then, it surged towards him and wrapped him up in brilliance and fire-bright life.

Then, the images started.

He saw the creation of the worlds. He saw the stars and the planets and so long night and he felt cold, so very cold. Then bright whiteness, like nothing else, and warmth drove away that cold. He felt joy and he shone, shone so bright that the dark came for him. The cold was back, nipping at his heels, darkening that bright white. He heard screams, saw entire nations and worlds burn, entire species wiped away or forced to the stars. He hovered, offering desperate protection, but the cold Darkness would always come, take away all he nurtured. He felt as if ages and ages passed by. He cried out as bond after bond was broken with the warriors he created and loved and their screams of terror and agony tore at him. He grew wilted and jaded.

He saw the Black Heart, in it’s Black Garden, tended by the machines. He feared.

He saw small beings, so soft and pink and so determined in their primitive technology, so new and courageous before him. And he felt love again. He nurtured them, gave them Light and life and joy. They gave him determination, and when the cold Darkness returned, instead of fleeing he mustered all his determination to defend them. The cold hurt, the Dark hurt, and he was so tired. He nestled above the little pink things he loved so dearly and spread his Light as far as he could, and before the cold could drive him dormant he breathed forth the Little Lights, and for a time he slept.

Then, a voice, calling him forth. So weak, so tired. But they were here, still. His little pink things. They lived beneath his warm Light and they fought back against that cold and he felt warm. He felt love.

Peace.

Jeremy gasped as he slammed back into his body, still floating in that void and the ribbon of Light drew forth a small speck of Light, one that felt so familiar, and something in Jeremy just knew it was Monster Truck. The ribbon pushed them together and Jeremy felt love and peace and warmth, and the ribbon receded, leaving Jeremy and Monster Truck alone.

For a while, Jeremy simply floated, holding the ball of Light that was his Ghost and slowly the world faded back in. It was dark, and quiet, and he was laying on something comfortable, still in his armor. Beside him, tucked into the crook of his neck, was the warm, whirring form of Monster Truck, and he smiled softly. He still felt exhausted, and hunger gnawed at him, but everything felt right now. What the Speaker had done had more than given Jeremy comfort.

“What did you see?”

Jeremy turned his gaze on the other man, sitting in a chair near where he was lying and Jeremy, in a voice laced with awe, spoke a single word. 

“Everything.”

The Speaker merely nodded, but Jeremy thought there might be more that he wanted to say, but refrained. Instead, Jeremy scooped up Monster Truck and rose to his feet. He wanted his bed, now, and a huge breakfast in the morning, and he knew he needed to apologize to Geoff and the others but for now he turned towards the Speaker and, in his most heartfelt voice, spoke once more. 

“Thank you.”

Jeremy tottered away then, back to the Plaza to catch a lift down to his apartment block. Like many other permanent fireteams they shared a small block of apartments with a shared common space, and he was relieved to find it empty upon his arrival. He slipped silently into his own apartment and stripped out of his armor and bodysuit, leaving him in his boxers. He drank a glass of water and was just about to settle down to sleep when an urgent itching on the back of his leg caught his attention.

Thinking perhaps he’d aggravated the old wound during his vision, he unwound the bandage with the intent to clean it and rebandage it. But, it turned out, he wouldn’t need to, and with a smile Jeremy left the bandages on the floor and slipped into his warm bed, drifting finally into easy sleep.

The wound on his leg was gone at last.


End file.
